


Oblivion

by ronsparkyspeirs



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Beth Greene, Beth Lives, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Psychological Drama, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronsparkyspeirs/pseuds/ronsparkyspeirs
Summary: Beth Greene comes back a little different than the girl we used to know.





	Oblivion

 

 

She wakes up with blood in her eyes, everything’s red and dark and for a second she panics. The air is hot and stifling and it’s the weirdest feeling in the world to sense sweat dripping down your neck while simultaneously thinking you’re dead. Slowly she rises from her place, a shaky hand going up to wipe the blood away, she realizes she’s in the backseat of a car. The windows rolled up and the doors shut closed, no wonder she’s burning up. It takes a second to orient herself, she remembers seeing Rick, she remembers being so angry at Dawn, after that, there’s nothing else. Beth scrambles her way out from the car, bloody fingers leaving a trail on the window. She tries to scream, to call out for help but a whimper is the only thing that leaves her mouth; she stumbles her way around the car and trips on the pavement. It’s nighttime and she can faintly see the lights coming from inside the hospital through the blood and tears. 

“H--help,” she croaks out, but there’s no one there. 

Everything's too bright, like someone messed with the contrast setting in her eyes, the light bothers her and she wonders if she should have just stayed back in the car.

She remembers Daryl and Rick and Carol, she saw their faces and now they’re gone. She doesn’t know why would they leave her and thinking about it only brings a searing pain to her head. An ache that blooms from the hole in her head to every single nerve ending.

Beth cries out, and starts walking toward the hospital she thought she had left behind.

 

* * *

 

Out of everyone she thinks Abraham understands her the best. And it’s funny because here she was, with her family, the people she’d been with for two years and the one person who got it was a stranger. It doesn’t seem fair and that’s because it’s not, she was nineteen and she got shot in the head, they left her for dead and it should have never happened. It was all an incredibly cruel joke at her expense, and the worst part was that she got it, she would laugh and never stop if she could, and she thinks Abraham knows it as well. 

“You got that look on your face,” he says, startling Beth out of her morbid thoughts. They’re having a barbecue, a goddamn  _ barbecue _ , and she feels nauseous. The smell of burning meat and their shiny, happy faces make her insides churn and twist with something akin to hate. Beth wants to scream, she wants to claw at her face and lose all control, she wants to yell at them,  _ Do you know what they did to me? _ It feels like she’s drowning and everyone is just standing around, watching as she flails and goes under, all with a shit eating grin on their face.  

“What?” she says, softly because everything is quiet nowadays. She has to be quiet or else Maggie gets a concerned look on her face and flutters about like the expecting mother she is. 

“Back in Afghanistan, I’d see these young guys, looking beat up and tired, kind of guys who couldn’t be bothered getting out of bed unless there were mortar rounds shelling the place” he says, and Beth stiffens under his scrutiny. 

“I’m still here,” she responds. 

“No, you ain’t.” 

Beth starts getting that familiar lump in her throat, she can feel the burning sensation of tears in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, she just turns around and leaves, starts walking back to the house she shares with Maggie and Glenn. She’s almost out of earshot when she hears Maggie calling for her, but she hears Abraham making up an excuse for her.

Sometimes she thinks it might have been better if she had died back at the hospital. Not just for herself, but for everybody else too. Maybe that way they could act like normal people around her and not like she’s a porcelain doll, ready to break if you even look at her the wrong way. She can’t take it, but she especially can’t take it from  _ him. _

It makes her nauseous the way he looks at her, like she’s something precious, something worthy of looking after. She wants to scratch his eyes out when he looks at her with innocence in his gaze, he can’t even touch her and a perverse part of her brain wonders if he ever jerked off to her in the privacy of his room. She’s so fucked up that it’s not even funny. 

So she stays quiet because Beth knows if the people around her had half a sense of what she’s thinking about most of the time, they’d lock her in a padded room and throw away the key. 

One day Daryl is sent to accompany her from her place on the wall back to Maggie’s house, because it’s  _ dark  _ and apparently she can’t fucking see when the sun goes down or something. He’s silent beside her, warmth radiating from his bare arms. A plan formulates in her mind and she doesn’t even think twice about it. She walks them in the opposite direction of Maggie’s house, back towards an area where it’s semi covered by trees and bushes, a little alcove away from prying eyes. 

“Where you goin’?” Daryl asks, but makes no move to steer them in the right direction. Their feet crunch the fallen leaves on the ground and she turns so suddenly that Daryl almost bumps into her. Beth catches him by the hem of his shirt, she digs her fingers into the softness beneath, into skin and muscle and Daryl lets out a noise she’s never heard from him. Beth rises on her toes and kisses him, he turns as still as a statue and when he makes no move to touch her she bites his lip, hard. That finally jolts some sense into Daryl and he jumps back, away from her, looking so startled that Beth starts to laugh. 

“What the hell—“ 

But Beth doesn’t care to listen to him, she steps closer and wraps her hand around the back of his neck, forcing him to bend down to her level, she kisses him again, licking his lips, her other hand skating down to his belt. She tugs at the piece of leather and Daryl grabs ahold of her wrist, stopping her from going further. “Don’t,” he rasps against her mouth, “this ain’t right.” 

“Shut up,” she murmurs against his lips, hand tugging furiously at his pants, Daryl half-heartedly tries to stop her, he’s stiff under her hands, tensed, and in another lifetime Beth would have felt terrible at the expression on his face; half resigned, half broken hearted. But she finds herself not even thinking about stopping, she tugs his dick out of his boxers and strokes him, Daryl whimpering at her touch. She bends down and spits on his hot flesh, circling her hand around his thick length. 

“You ever touch yourself when you think about me?” She asks, her voice low and desperate, “ever thought about fucking me?” 

Daryl’s breath hiccups and Beth  _ should  _ feel bad, “Beth, don’t—“ 

“Tell me!” She says, tightening her grip around his cock.

He lets out what sounds like a sob, drops his forehead to her own, “I did, still do,” he breathes.

“What’s it feel like to want to fuck a dead girl?” She asks, her tone vicious, but he’s still so hard in her hand, she pushes him away and he stumbles. 

“What?— what the fuck—“

And then Beth is dropping to her knees, taking him whole in her mouth, she sucks hard and it doesn’t even take much, he just comes in her mouth, his hands clenched by his sides. She takes him out with a cruel popping sound, his come dribbling from her lips. 

“What’s it feel like?” She asks him again, conscious of the salty taste of him on her tongue, his dick gone limp in the cool air. 

His face twists, like he’s about to cry and Beth doesn’t feel a thing in response. 

“It feels like dyin’,” he says. 

And then he’s tucking himself back in his pants, eyes hidden by his messy hair, he doesn’t turn to look at her as he leaves. 

Beth slowly gets up from her spot on the ground, knees damp from the wet ground. She takes her time getting back to Maggie’s house, quietly opens the front door and is so glad to see Both Glenn and Maggie have already gone to bed, she doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, possibly ever again. 

That night she tries to fall asleep, but her minds keeps her awake. It’s not until the first rays of sunlight start peeking through her window that her eyes fall close. 

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t see Daryl for the next couple of days but Carol narrows her eyes whenever she’s around, and Rick acts like he doesn’t trust her, doesn’t let her near Judith, and that’s fine because Beth doesn’t trust herself either. 

It’s not obvious, of course it’s not, they’re all  _ pretending  _ after all. But whenever Carl tries to pass Judy off to Beth, somehow Rick or Michonne are always there, taking the little girl from her arms. It would hurt if she could remember how much she used to love the baby. 

And that’s another thing, the memory loss. She hasn’t been able to say the words out loud but there’s  _ a lot  _ she can’t remember. Her childhood is fuzzy sometimes, the edges of it fraying like torn jeans, the farm, the prison; it took her half a day to remember the name of the boy who used to kiss her under the watchtower. Sometimes Maggie will say something and Beth will stare blankly, her eyes glossed over, but then it’ll come back to her, like a flashlight turning on in the dark, sudden and jarring. But she remembers  _ him _ , the way he smiled at her in the dark, his soft touches, his quiet voice, patient and endearing, afraid of hurting her. 

Daryl returns, from a hunting trip, Glenn had told her. But when Beth stares at him from across the street, he doesn’t return her gaze, just hitches his crossbow up his shoulder and keeps his eyes on the ground. She remembers the crossbow though, the heavy weight of it in her arms, the cool metal beneath her fingertips. Sometimes she wonders what it would have felt like to have an arrow through her head rather than a bullet. 

 

* * *

 

 

She floats through the next few days like a little ghost. Wanders the safe zone without an objective, she hadn’t gotten a job upon arrival, Maggie had said it was too soon and she needed to rest. Maggie had been wrong, but there wasn’t anything Beth could do about it. 

Instead she watches everyone. 

Her own people yes, but also the other residents from the safe zone. She watches Deanna, her son, her husband, she watches the doctor, Denise, who watches her back. But Beth has had a lot of experience on people watching  _ her,  _ so it’s easy to blank her expressions, make her face look serene, she used to do it all the time in Grady, it became a survival tool and it’s very handy here too. 

Beth watches that Jessie woman, sees her looking at Rick like he could be her savior. 

It’s laughable and childish, doesn’t this woman know that nothing can save you if death decides to start gunning for you? 

And of course, nothing good lasts forever. 

Negan and his men come. He demands and Beth wants to slap some sense into Rick, this man is not like the others, he doesn’t care about  _ fair  _ or  _ honor _ , all he’s interested is himself and what he can get to survive. Rick thinks he can beat Negan by force, he thinks he can do what he’s done with other threats, his ego almost gets Glenn killed. And when Negan points that bat at Abraham, a jolt goes through Beth, something similar to what came over her back in Grady before she got shot. 

Except this time,  _ she gets it _ . 

She’s seen this man before. On the road. In Atlanta. She knows that people like him get off on fear, they like to see people cower and bend to their will, but she also knows that this man has never met a girl like her before. She was born again in a sea of fire and pestilence, she came back from the brink of death and  _ survived _ . But more than all of this, she knows what to say, she learned the game better than anyone. Grady taught her well and she knows she can make this man do whatever she wants. 

And yes, Beth knows what she looks like. She will never be able to subjugate someone through sheer  force but she can do one better because she knows that despite the scars and the serious expression to her face, she still looks innocent, like a lost little lamb, and she knows that despite everything she’s been through, people still manage to underestimate her. So she rises from her knees, keeps her blue eyes wide and doe-like, parts her pink mouth and turns to look at Negan. 

“Please, stop,” she says, just soft enough so he’ll hear. 

His eyes focus on her like a laser beam, narrowing like a sharks, “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” 

She can see Daryl stiffen in his position, like he wants to get up too but Rick grabs him by the wrist, and she doesn’t have to look close to see the iron grip the older man probably has on him. 

“Where have they been hiding you?” Negan asks, grinning, and he would have been so handsome if his eyes didn’t scream unstable. 

She lowers her eyes, brings them back up, and if it’s possible, his grin grows wider, god, men really are predictable. 

His eyes look her up and down, all the way to the star shaped tissue on her forehead, he steps closer, and Beth can breathe in the smell of old leather. Negan raises his bat, points it at her scars and the barbed wire almost scratches at her skin but Beth doesn’t flinch, “These are new,” he says. 

“You all got a doctor?” 

She shakes her head, “Grady, Atlanta.” 

He seems to deflate a little at her answer, but Beth reaches out, lets her fingertips graze the skin of his wrist just lightly, then lets her hand drop down. “No one has to die tonight,” she says, her voice clear and strong, but melodic at the same time. 

“What’s your name, honey?” 

Beth tries to make herself seem as small as possible, but she glances at his lips, her gaze quickly slips down to his broad shoulders then back up, he’s still looking at her like a prize he just won at a county fair, “Beth,” she responds, breathing out the word like he’s capable of actually stealing her breath away. 

Negan smiles at her, runs the pad of his thumb through the scar on her cheek and then suddenly turns around, raises his hands in defeat and says, “Boys, I’m feeling mighty generous tonight!” 

 

* * *

 

The second time Daryl kills for her, they’re on a run.

Accompanied by Simon because Negan doesn’t trust them, not anymore after Rick tried and failed at his coup. He’d taken Carl’s eyes for that act of disobedience, better than killing all of them, that’s for sure. But Beth could have told him it wouldn’t work, she’d been spending the last couple of weeks with Negan himself. Anytime he went into the safe zone, he would ask for Beth, take her into Rick’s house and stare at her for a couple of minutes before demanding she sing something pretty. 

He never even touched her, not really, unless you counted the few times his fingers would caress her face, sometimes he’d run his fingers over her lips and she would exhale just a little, just enough to make him think she was actually moved by his gesture but he had never gone beyond that. Beth thinks it’s weird that he’s so against rape but not murder, but it’s a code, and it’s something she can exploit so she never says anything. 

One time he even brings her a gift, Beth almost laughs right in his face but he looks so pleased with himself she’s not sure he wouldn’t smack her if she did. 

“Got you something,” he says, dancing around the Grimes’ kitchen like he owns the place.

“What is it?” She asks, playing along because he’s more liable to say something important if he’s in a good mood. 

“C’mere,” he tells her, smirking like he’s got a secret. 

She goes to him, looks up through her eyelashes and he drops to his knees, his head incredibly close to her crotch, Beth shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure of his actions. But then Negan takes something out of the inside of his jacket, he unfurls it and she sees it’s a garter, a holster for her knife. He taps on her knee and she instinctively widens her stance, lifting her boot when he slides the leather garter up her leg to her thigh. 

He reaches behind her and takes the large, white handled knife from her without asking and slides it into the holster. 

“I’ll get you another one,” he tells her, as he tugs on the knife. 

“It was a gift,” she responds, without thinking about it.

“From who?” He asks, and the question sounds innocent enough but Beth knows if she were to tell him, that Daryl would be in his crossfire, not out of jealousy, Negan thinks he’s far above such petty emotions but she knows this can be something to be used against Daryl. 

And even if he hasn’t spoken to her since that night he came in her mouth, she still wouldn’t like it if something happened to him.  

So Beth smiles, coy and embarrassed, she traces a path with her finger down his jawline, giving just enough to keep him interested, “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” 

He throws his head back and laughs, still on his knees, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Beth watches as color flushes his cheeks, she looks at the dark stubble on his face, on his neck, he looks up at her and his eyes are crinkled at the corners, dimples on display and all Beth can think about is just

How easy it would be to slit his throat.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I keep doing this to myself? I DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR ALL THESE FICS. 😫😫😫 anyways, I used to think that if Beth had lived she would be the emotional ray of sunshine we all came to know and love but then after years of disassociating myself from the fandom, I thought, no. Beth would not be the same. We saw glimpses of that darkness in Slabtown, she obviously had no qualms killing people, and she was GOING TO STAB EDWARDS if Carol hadn’t gotten caught. 
> 
> I think she would have still had faith and all that but the world might have left her a little worse for wear.


End file.
